


Guide You Home

by ashley_ingenious



Series: Fix You [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Stiles, How Do I Tag, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-29
Updated: 2014-06-29
Packaged: 2018-02-06 18:12:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1867551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashley_ingenious/pseuds/ashley_ingenious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It takes eight months.</p>
<p>-----</p>
<p>It starts on a Tuesday afternoon, with Derek splayed across Stiles’ bed, reading a book while he waits for the younger man to finish his homework. </p>
<p>“Where are you staying?” Stiles tosses over his shoulder, and Derek shrugs. </p>
<p>“Still in the woods, mostly.”</p>
<p>Stiles spins in his computer chair, directs the full force of a disapproving gaze on Derek. He arches an eyebrow. “Still?” </p>
<p>Derek nods, but he won’t make eye contact. </p>
<p>“Why?” Stiles asks, and Derek doesn’t have an answer, but he tries anyway. “I don’t really have anything, I don’t really need anywhere. It’s just me, you know?”</p>
<p>Stiles rises from the chair, settles on the bed with Derek. His hand curls into the older man’s hair and tugs slightly, just to get the arch to Derek’s neck that he likes. He resists the urge to lick it in favor of meeting Derek’s eyes. “It’s not just you,” he murmurs, “it’s us now.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guide You Home

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, this is just a short, sweet, notficcy thing I did to finish (in my mind), the [Ignite Your Bones](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1144706) storyline. You should definitely read that one first, otherwise this one will seem weird.

It takes eight months.

\----- 

It starts on a Tuesday afternoon, with Derek splayed across Stiles’ bed, reading a book while he waits for the younger man to finish his homework.

“Where are you staying?” Stiles tosses over his shoulder, and Derek shrugs.

“Still in the woods, mostly.”

Stiles spins in his computer chair, directs the full force of a disapproving gaze on Derek. He arches an eyebrow. “Still?”

Derek nods, but he won’t make eye contact.

“Why?” Stiles asks, and Derek doesn’t have an answer, but he tries anyway. “I don’t really have anything, I don’t really need anywhere. It’s just me, you know?”

Stiles rises from the chair, settles on the bed with Derek. His hand curls into the older man’s hair and tugs slightly, just to get the arch to Derek’s neck that he likes. He resists the urge to lick it in favor of meeting Derek’s eyes. “It’s not just you,” he murmurs, “it’s us now.” Stiles nips at Derek’s throat, enjoying the pleased rumble it evokes.

He clambers off the bed, slides back into his desk chair. “We’re going apartment hunting over the weekend.” He calls out over his shoulder, not even looking back at Derek.

The wolf nods, “Okay.”

\------

 

It’s easier than they think. They pick a decent little place with seven hundred square feet and an open floor plan on Sunday morning. They spend all of Sunday shopping. Furniture, basic house essentials, more clothes for Derek. By Tuesday, it looks like he’s on his way to being a normal human being. The pack has a gathering at his place. At first he’s nervous, but Stiles stays by his side, keeps a hand on him as often as possible, and it’s okay, after a while.

The next time the moon rises, full and heavy, Stiles is there, in the brand new bed in the brand new apartment that smells like them. Usually, Stiles just holds him, nothing sexual until he’s sure Derek’s “back”. And Derek isn’t sure what that means, but it involves being close to his Alpha, so it’s usually enough for him.

Tonight, though, his Alpha makes an exception. Stiles still wraps around him like an octopus from behind, enveloping him and keeping him safe.

But this time, he has one hand anchored at Derek’s throat, while the other fists his leaking cock. All the while, Stiles murmurs praise into his ear. “So good,” he says, over and over, “I’m so proud of you.”

Derek whimpers and shakes apart, Stiles grips his hips firmly and rubs off between the tight globes of his ass. When he spurts his release into the small of Derek’s back, he rolls the wolf onto his stomach, and rubs his come, his scent, into the skin of his back, from the cheeks of his ass all the way up to the skin around his tattoo. Squeezing the back of Derek’s neck, Stiles nips at the shell of his ear and whispers, “mine.”

Derek sleeps like a baby the whole way through the night.

\-------

 

He overhears Stiles and Lydia talking when he’s jogging up the steps to the Stilinski house.”

“I don’t know how you do it, honestly. Here’s here all the time. And he’s so high maitenance. I didn’t think you’d be able to handle something like that. Your’e really good with him. I’d be completely at a loss.” She says, sounding earnest, and there’s a sharp pain in Derek’s chest.

“Don’t talk about him like that. Like he’s a dog or a baby. It’s _Derek_. I’m not 'good with him,' we’re good _for_ each other. That’s how it works when you think about people as people rather than commodities, Lydia.” Stiles snaps back, voice laced with venom and the room goes silent. Derek can hear Lydia’s stuttering heartbeat competing with Stiles’ calm, steady pulse.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles sighs. “I get weird about him. I get...territorial, I guess? Just, don’t talk about him like that, okay? I’m not doing him a favor. I...I need him just as much as he needs me.”

Derek hears Lydia swallow, imagines she’s nodding. “I’m sorry, too. Won’t happen again.”

Later, Stiles and Derek curl up on the couch, the sheriff asleep in his LazyBoy. They’re not doing anything inappropriate. Stiles’ feet are in Derek’s lap, and Derek is stroking the soft skin around his ankle, pondering. He wonders if it’s true, if he’s needy, if he requires too much from Stiles. He tries to be patient, just likes being in the other man’s space, where things smell like him, and he feels safer. 

The more he thinks, the more he realizes, though, that Stiles doesn’t play video games with Scott as often, doesn’t fish with his dad anymore, or clean Melissa’s gutters like he used to. He’s too busy being available for his clingy beta.

Derek quietly gets a job at the library.

 

\------

 

Stiles storms into his apartment a week after he starts, furious. “Why didn’t you tell me?!” He yells. “Why did I have to find out you got a job from those gossipy hags at the grocery store?!”

_You love the Mrs. Levinson and Craig_ , Derek wants to say, but he doesn’t. He retreats back in on himself, because Stiles is angry, and Derek is just trying to do the right thing, to be good.

Stiles forges on. “Is this how you treat your Alpha?! You make important life decisions without consulting me?”

“No!” Derek exclaims, because he sees, now, how it could seem disrespectful. “I just…I just wanted to make it easier for you. I wanted to need you less. I thought, maybe, if I had my own things to do…I wouldn’t need you around as much.”

Stiles goes quiet, and his eyes flash with something truly terrifying. “Lydia,” he murmurs. Shaking it off, he crowds into Derek’s space the way he knows the wolf likes, rubs the tip of his nose across Derek’s temple, leaving him with his Alpha’s scent. “Never forget,” he breathes into Derek’s skin, “That I came into the woods looking for you. I need you around just as much. I need to look out for you, Der. I feel wrong if I don’t. But I can’t do that if you won’t talk to me.”

Derek murmurs apologies only to be shushed and led to the couch.

They settle, Derek’s head resting across Stiles’ knees, Stiles hand resting on Derek’s chest. Both of them pay more attention to the other’s breathing than the steady hum of the television.

After a while, Stiles leans down and presses a kiss to Derek’s forehead. “I’m proud of you,” he says, eyes heavy with honesty, and something in Derek melts.

“It’s just a job,” he mutters, blushing and trying to look away, but Stiles held his head steady. 

“I’m proud of you,” he says again, “You’re doing well. You’re coming back. Don’t discount that.”

Derek nods, slowly. He doesn’t understand fully, though. Doesn’t understand why Stiles seems to want the old Derek back so much. The old Derek was lost and surly and mean. He was a terrible Alpha to a ragtag pack, most of whom died, and the last of which deserted him. Now, Derek just wanted to be more like Stiles. Kinder, steadier, more reliable. He just wanted to be someone Stiles could be proud of.

He realizes, though, in his introspection, that the old Derek did talk a little more than he does now. Without being provoked. The old Derek had a sense of humor. Bone dry, but there, and maybe that was a part of what Stiles missed.

Derek starts talking more.

 

\------

 

“You need a car.” Stiles tells him, one day. And Derek nods, humming in agreement, “Yeah. I do.”

Stiles’ eyes linger on him for a minute, and Derek flushes like he always does under his Alpha’s gaze, though he doesn’t know if it was positive or negative. “You want to go back to flashy, like the Camaro? Or is the mom mobile more your thing?”

Derek shrugs. “Neither? The Camaro was Laura’s car. The Toyota was just convenient.”

Stiles bobs his head. “Something in the middle then.”

“More shopping?” Derek whines. And Stiles laughs at him, because he’s an asshole.

“More shopping. People need stuff, Der. I don’t make the rules.”

“You make them for _me_.” Derek laments, grumpily.

Stiles chuckles a little. “Whatever, puppy. You know I let you get away with murder.”

Derek goes still. _Puppy_? He thinks, rolling the word over in his head. He wants to test the weight of it in his mouth, but he’s afraid to. Stiles senses his discomfort, the sudden stiffness in him and reach across the center console to catch his hand.

"Hey," he murmurs, in the soft voice that’s only for Derek. "Too much?"

Derek thinks of Paige, then. Of how sometimes, when he'd made her laugh, she'd run her fingers through his hair and call him an overgrown puppy. He thinks  about how much it'd warmed him, that she'd recognized that piece of him and adored it as much as everything else.

Then Derek thinks of Kate. Of how she'd called him "Wreck" instead of Der like everyone else because he wrecked everything. The way he'd been with her in the intimate hours, clumsy and awkward and excited. She'd called him a puppy too, before he grew into his limbs or his sense of self.

But there’s no mockery in Stiles' voice. It feels like a hand carding through his hair, and a warmth inside. So he smiles.

"I like it," he says, not making eye contact again.

"Okay," Stiles agrees, and it's final. He nods and turns his attention back to the road, but keeps his fingers tangled up in Derek's.

\--------

Derek’s not allowed to read for leisure at Stiles' house until he's looked through a mountain of paperwork on perspective cars. He looks at Volkswagons and Chevy's, Fords, Volvos, Acuras. Stiles just watches, and refuses to comment on what he thinks Derek should get.

"'S'not my car," the younger man shrugs, and laughs when Derek growls out his frustration.

He picks the Chevy Malibu, and Stiles curses under his breath. For a second, Derek panics, it was a test, all a test, and he’s failed it, obviously, he’s picked the wrong car. His second thought, though, is one of suspicion. So, while he’s still nervous, he narrows his eyes and bites out, “What did you do?”

“Nothing!” Stiles yelps, sounding sixteen again if only for a moment. “I did nothing! I’ve done nothing! I don’t know why you would think that!” He quickly busied himself with his book again, foot tapping nervously, excitement humming through the bond.

“You’re an idiot,” Derek mutters. Stiles grins brilliantly.

\-------

 

The pack is waiting in the parking lot of his apartment when he drives his new car in, Stiles follows in the Jeep.

They cheer when they see it, and Derek doesn’t miss the discreet passing of money to Isaac. When he arches an eyebrow, Allison laughs.

"We placed bets on which one you'd pick. Isaac put his money in for this one immediately."

“That’s why I was pissed when you picked it. I’m the damn Alpha and I picked the wrong car!” Stiles chimes in, and Scott laughs.

Derek’s arched eyebrow turns onto Isaac who blushes and shrugs.

"You like Chevy's," he says, smiling. To Derek, the smile feels like a lifeline, like maybe he hadn't ruined the boy as much as he'd thought.

"D'you guys wanna come in?" He asks, tentatively. "We were gonna get pizza..." He glances back at Stiles who's smiling at him, nodding.

The response is quiet at first, but everyone agrees.

He hears Scott hang back, bump shoulders with Stiles. "That your idea?"

Derek glances back, sees Stiles shake his head with his hands stuck in his pockets, smiling.

"That's progress, isn't?" Scott asks, sounding to all the world like an overexcited puppy.

"Definitely." Stiles agrees, his eyes catching Derek's and his smile widening.

\----

 

It becomes a tradition. The pack meeting is Friday night, they alternate between Scott's, Stiles', and Lydia's. Derek doesn't attend. But there's also a pack movie night at Derek's every Saturday. He and Isaac talk more, about poetry and music. About Cora, who they both keep in tentative touch with. Derek starts to feel less like an intruder in his own home.

One night, Lydia takes him aside and apologize for the things she said to Stiles, for the way he'd reacted. She’s sincere, but Derek can only shrug. It’s in the past. When she tries to apologize for Peter, Derek stiffens. "I'm not talking about this with you," he growls, and he stalks into the bedroom. For a second, he considers making a big show of slamming the door, but in the end, he closes it like it's something fragile.

Allison finds him sitting out on his fire escape five minutes later. She sits down next to him slowly. He doesn’t make eye contact with her. He wants Stiles, but there’s way to say that without sounding petulant, so he just stays quiet.

But so does she. She’s a quiet and steady presence next to him, just waiting. The same way, damnit, the same way Laura or his mother would've waited.

"I suppose you want to apologize for Kate, too," he snaps. It sounds petty, even to his own ears. He huffs and fight the urge to cross his arms over his chest.

"I was a child when Kate hurt you. I didn't have anything to do with that. I'll never apologize for Kate. Not that way." She responds easily, like it makes perfect sense. Which it _does_. But still, weren't people supposed to feel a little more guilty? Derek does.

"Lydia shouldn't have apologized for Peter, either," the brunette continues, like she’s talking about the weather. "He tricked her, he manipulated her and traumatized her. She was a victim, same as you. She's got no business apologizing for that." Her voice takes on the fierceness that seems reserved for Scott and Lydia.

"So why did she?" Derek would ask. He's be aiming for dry, but his voice still sounds a little lost when it hits the night air. Allison sighs, her shoulders rise and fall helplessly.

"She's proud. She doesn't like thinking of herself that way, admitting she was bested. So she's takes responsibility where there isn't any. She'd rather admit to doing an awful thing than admit she wasn't in control of herself."

It sounds like something Derek would do. With that realization, all of the fight drains out of him.

"Why'd you come out here?" He asks, trying to hurry towards the point.

Allison shrugs again. "I asked if I could talk to you. Stiles said yes."

It changes something, that Stiles sent her. Derek zeroes in on his Alpha's heartbeat, realizes that he’s standing right outside the bedroom door, waiting.

"Why'd you want to talk to me?"

"I'm not apologizing for my family. But I can apologize for me, for anything I've done that's made you feel...distant from the pack. For any influence I've had on Scott or Isaac or Lydia that's pulled you away. Stiles and I...we talked, about my position in Scott's pack and how much power I have to sway people. I'd never thought about it that way, and I wasn't using it well."

"You're just a kid."

"None of us are kids anymore, Derek. Our decisions, some of them are life and death. Scott had Deaton talk to all of us about the bond between you and Stiles. How and why it works. He told us that you were feral for too long. That if you and Stiles hadn't found each other like you did, you could've gone rabid, started killing people. We might have had to put you down."

There’s a long stretch of silence.

"I just wanted you to know that we know. That we're sorry, and that we're here now. As close or as far away as you need us."

They don’t talk anymore after that, they just sit, quietly, enjoying the night air and listening to the sounds of their sleepy town as it prepares for bed.

It’s a testament to how comfortable Derek is in the moment that he doesn’t notice Stiles sliding the window open and ducking his head out until the younger man speaks.

"Alright, you two. It's getting cold out. Inside."

Allison reaches over to squeeze Derek's hand once, before swiveling herself back through the window with a hunters grace.

Stiles, with none of that same grace, would shimmy out to wrap his arms around Derek's middle, legs framing his as they hang of the fire escape. His Alpha presses a soft kiss to his neck.

"You alright, puppy?" He asks quietly, and Derek nods.

"Ready to go back in?" He asks again, and Derek nods.

It's quiet when they got back into the living room. Allison and Lydia send him twin soft smiles from their positions on the loveseat, Scott curled up between them. Scott looks at Stiles with a mixture of pride and awe, like Derek was some prize stallion that Stiles had miraculously broken. Isaac is already be drifting off to sleep, head rested on Kira's leg. The young Kitsune is seated on the floor, eyes closed as her Alpha ran absentminded fingers through her hair.

They would look like a pack. Established and trusting of each other. Trusting of _him_. Derek finds himself thinking that they feel like his apartment felt when he'd first bought it. Like something he knew was supposed to be home but wasn't yet.

As he and Stiles settle in their prime spot on the main couch, Derek can only focus on that last word.

Yet.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Do you tumblr? If you do you should come hang out with me [here](http://theluckyouvegot.tumblr.com)!


End file.
